Haircut Anxieties (05-03-11)

I dread getting a haircut, because I'm afraid that my hair will look like a disaster, no matter what is done to it.
 Although I got a lot of hair, it's pretty fine. It gets static electricity, lays flat on top of my head, and I look like those people in science demonstrations whose hair flies straight up. So, I will give the hairstylist very detailed descriptions of what I DON'T want, and what I do want...then, as she gets to cutting my hair, I will spend the entire time worried and anguished over the results. Finally, when the results look like the minute description I gave of what I didn't want, I feel obligated to praise the hairstyle, even though I hate it. Then, I have to silently suffer over my looks for another six weeks or so later, then go through this all over again.

I hate my hair!

Anxious moments

High School Memories (04-28-11)

When I was in high school in Belgium (the equivalent to 8th or 9th grade), I had a Biology teacher who had a serious style and fashion problem. She was frightful-looking, cross-eyed, with long stringy hair, glasses, and buck teeth. She was clearly middle-aged, and yet, hope springs eternal, she wore mini-skirts that revealed more than anyone would want to see of her her knobby knees and chicken legs.

I can't begin to relate how much of s trouble-maker I was in that class... I sat in the back, with the class clown and his acolytes, and we disrupted the entire class on an ongoing basis. The poor woman, whose humble ambition was to get the class to dissect a frog, never got a chance. I lead our group in loudly objecting that it was cruel and unusual treatment of animals. Small animals. Like poor little frogs, wrenched away from their little ponds, to end up in a stupid classroom, cut into pieces, all for nothing. Why did we have to do this? Could we just draw the frog, and be done? I didn't give a rat's... about dissection; I didn't give a rat's... about Biology either for that matter. Etc.

We never dissected any frog. In fact, we never did anything else than riot in the class.

Woman's Hair (04-27-11)

Here is a nice little drawing done with a Pitt Marker pen. They take a lot of time to get used to, but some of the results ate quite satisfying.

Shakespeare and Molière (04-27-11)

Actor Tim Mooney came to Mt Hood Community College to perform two one-man acts, Shakespeare and Molière. I really enjoyed how he effortlessly changed from one character to another.

Actor Tim Mooney (with autograph removed)

Not an easy task to draw someone gesticulating... So I worked on the sketch above, but also did the quick movement thumbnails below.

Drawing at the Canvas Bar (04-25-11)

On Monday nights, the Canvas Bar has models who pose for artists. This was a struggle for me because I couldn't get over the "dress" the model was wearing, something that looked like a cheap beach straw mat with long strands that hung on the side.

Model wearing a stupid looking straw wrap

Comics Fest (04-17-11)

This is the first time I ever made it to the Stumptown Comics Fest. I found it intimidating, even discouraging. It was like a gathering of clickish people who all knew each other, an exclusive event for exclusive, cool people. I had my Maxine's BD book with me, and was met with dismissive or bored glances when I tried to engage some of the hip publisher representatives who were there; I guess if I were in my 20s, things might be different. As it was, I felt like a fool with my little drawings.

I ran into Theo Ellsworth who had a booth featuring his illustrations and books, and I also saw Kalina Wilson, another artist from the Portland Urban Sketchers whose sketchbooks I admire.

Theo Ellsworth's booth

Meeting with the Accountant (04-16-11)

A dreaded annual moment: meeting with our (quite likeable) accountant. To me, there is nothing more boredom-evoking than a calculator, but Craig C. apparently thrives on making sense out of the stacks of paperwork I present to him.

Not my idea of fun...

A Visit to the Hospital (04-15-11)

Our daughter Moso had to go to the Emergency room because she felt some discomfort in her eye. I drew these sketches while I waited for her.

Distress

The sketch above was done surreptitiously, because I didn't want to get in an argument with the parties involved, but I liked the pose of the big (tough-looking) girl sobbing in the arms of her (tough-looking) girlfriend.

Hospital waiting room

It turned out that Moso had a tiny metal shards in her eye! The doctor tried to remove them unsuccessfully, but at least we found out there was a problem indeed. (Good thing we went to the Emergency room after all...).

Historic Inventory Presentation (04-15-11)

The Oak lodge History Detectives organized a community event to present the variety of architectural styles of the houses in the area. Driveing through the McLoughlin Blvd./Hwy. 99 wasteland, one would never guess that there are some unique properties in this area (mine included). I recognized some of the photos I took, and that was pretty cool.

Presentation by Jane Morrison

A trip to the Immigration Services (04-13-11)

I went downtown to the "US Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services" (how things change, and how they remain the same; it used to the Immigration and Naturalization Services); while waiting for my turn, I drew this sketch of other people waiting.

Disappointing Evening at Little Bird (04-12-11)

The Portland French Alliance had organized a dinner at Little Bird for native French speakers and, to my great disappointment, it turned out that this event was attended by the usual Americans who:
1.) think that their high school French from a bazillion years ago has somehow made them fluent in the language
2.) spent a year in France at the turn of the previous century
3.) love anything and everything French and proclaim it enthusiastically
4.) are super-boring.
No offense, but once in a while, I'd like to have a conversation in French without having to patiently wait for my interlocutor's thoughts to surface in their consciousness and painstakingly materialize into coherent French conversational words, without biting myself to not correct the other person when they invariably butcher the French grammar, without cringing internally at every sentence because it's so painful to control myself... Gosh, think whatever you want. Since I live in the U.S., I just want to have a meeting with other French native speakers once in a while, and that's that.

View from the mezzanine

Anyway, let's talk about the food. Another reason I was looking forward to this dinner is that I had read lavish reviews about this restaurant, and especially about the hamburger they served. So, after carefully studying the menu, that's what I ordered. Bummer. My hamburger, although juicy to the point of dripping onto the plate was overall dry in the mouth and left me with the feeling of having swallowed a cannon ball.

Conclusion: a disappointing evening.

Drink at St Jack's (04-11-11)

I drew this sketch of Mary G. at St Jack's where we went after a Visual Journaling get-together.

Pie and Music in Oak Grove (04-09-11)

In conjunction with the work that has been started to fix up the Trolley Trail and make it bike and pedestrian friendly, there may be new activity coming soon to the sleepy downtown Oak Grove area. A new business  called Pieandjam had a pre-opening meet-and-greet gathering, with pie tasting (delicious crust), and music provided by Stumbleweed. I gotta admit I like bluegrass almost as much as the blues.

Great pie and great music

A French Bistro in SE Portland! (04-04-11)

St Jack is a new restaurant in our old neighborhood that opened recently, and oh... how very good it is!
I had already stopped a couple of times for pastries at the adjacent bakery, but this time, Gary and I went for Happy Hour. I sat in a blissful daze the entire time: the mussels were excellent, the music was old French standards. It felt as if we really were in Paris (well, all right, if one disregards the mispelled sign on the wall...)

Gary; no, he doesn't have a lazy eye...

Self-Portrait in the Dark (04-02-11)

This was an exercise to see how intuitive sketching works (that is, it was drawn in a room with barely any lighting)... Not bad after all, since I drew myself look quite a few pounds skinner!.. Heheh!

Who says wishful thinking is counter-productive?!

Shopping to Make Up for a Rotten Day (04-02-11)

I needed my signature notarized on four documents. Easy enough... Well, it wasn't that simple after all. After going the local branch of out bank, and finding out that there was no notary present, I was sent to another branch 15 minutes away, where there would be, I was told, no waiting. I got to the second branch, to be roughly told by one of the two notaries present that it would be a long wait. And it was. It took 30 minutes to finally talk to her. The documents in my possession all contained one paragraph in French, with the same text written in English underneath. Only, the woman did not feel "comfortable" notarizing my signature because of the French text. She wanted to know what it meant. I was stunned. Since when do notaries busy themselves with interpreting the contents of a document?! Despite pointing out the translated portion to her, she wouldn't budge.
The branch supervisor told me that the other notary was willing to look at my document. Fair enough. However, before I could talk with her, I'd have to wait till she was done with her customers, a couple with a young boy and a wailing baby. So I waited...40 minutes before her customers were gone, wailing baby and all. By then, I had developed a massive headache. Yes, this notary would sign my document. But only if I showed her a copy of my marriage certificate (which in 30 years of marriage, I have never had), or a Belgian passport with my maiden name on it, and a birth certificate. I had no choice. On the way home, my head pounding as I was driving, I called Gary, to ask him to locate my old passport. Something was wrong with the Bluetooth and the phones once again, because there was screeching metallic-sounding interference, with Gary's voice coming through the noise, asking "... passport? Where? I can't hear..." I got home and staggered out of the car, me and my headache. As I opened the door to the kitchen, Gary handed me the passport and birth certificate, and he told me that I had no patience. I snapped back that I have all the patience in the world! I just waited one hour at a bank, to get no service! With the passport and certificate in hand, I turned around and got in my car, to make another 15-minute trip back to the bank.
After close examination of my passport, and after I provided an impromptu translation of the birth certificate, the notary finally relented and certified my signature. From start to finish, the entire process took four hours!.. (and when I got home, I realized that I was missing a sentence on each, nullifying the entire effort).

So, to make up for my bad day, and because I needed clothes for the warmer seasons (I never have any problem finding winter clothes, but hardly ever find any summer clothes that look flattering), I went to Macy's, and they had some big clearance sales. I bough some sleveless blouses and a pair of jeans, and a flowered top that would look gorgeous in a 1920s style outfit...

Stranded at the Rural Auction (03-29-11)

I was at the rural auction, killing time while waiting to be picked up by my husband and... (Ahem... a long story that will be better told on my No Ducks and Bunnies blog).

Inside the big building where they have the household goods auctions, I surveyed the scene. At the auction, week after week, one sees the same people, the junk and the antique dealers, the occasional curious, farmers, field workers, and many Hispanic, Ukrainian or Russian immigrants. It's a large loose group of people, some one says hello to, some one avoids, some one hands off unwanted purchases to... But everyone is there with the same purpose: to make a deal, to find the perfect, -or almost perfect- item, something to fix, to re-use, or to re-sell.

Inside the auction building

There is something heartbreaking about the sorry possessions strewn around, the scratched furniture, dented appliances, faded clothing, ribbons and threads, used toiletries, greasy pots and pans, chipped plates, broken toys, and other junk, sold off by the box, the sad remnants of torn, displaced lives.

Matthew Brehm Workshop (03-27-11)

Matthew Brehm was an instructor at the Urban Sketchers Symposium last year. He came back to Portland to teach a workshop for the benefit of the Portland Urban Sketchers group and others who were interested in learning Sketching techniques from an architectural standpoint.

The workshop was held in the community room at People's Coop, in our old neighborhood. I was running a few minutes late, as always, but first had made a stop at St Jack's, the new bakery/restaurant on Clinton and 21st to pick up a hot chocolate and a (superb) ham and cheese croissant.

It was pretty interesting! I usually have difficulties sitting for long periods of time without getting distracted, but this was an excellent presentation, with photos, examples, suggestions... Where the presenter focuses on buildings foremost, and sees people as incidental to the setting, I favor people vs. surroundings. It's just a different approach to the same problems.

We had some time for lunch (I took the opportunity to pay a visit to I've Been Framed; they have great prices on art supplies), then we met downtown at Pioneer Courthouse Square (and I was late again...) to work on some sketches.

Pioneer Courthouse

While I was drawing Pioneer Courthouse, I was thinking of the days when the first floor was a charmingly old-fashioned post office, austere and cavernous, and when the decision was made, against the wishes of many and despite the heroic efforts of a few, to close the post office and, in effect, to turn the old courthouse into a quasi-private legal bastion, retrofitted with parking spaces under the building for the benefit of some federal judges. Alas, it has happened...

In rain and in cold...

The weather was wretched and cold, so it was quite startling to see a wedding group taking photos on the square. The bride was pretty, but, wearing a bare-shouldered dress in pouring rain, I can't imagine she was comfortable. The bridesmaids also wearing bare-shouldered, short satin dresses almost looked blue from the cold... It started raining pretty hard, and a few drops of rain fell on my sketchbook.

We then went to Central Library, and spent some time sketching inside.

An interesting collection of old papers and photographs from one of the early prominent families was displayed in the glass cases on the third floor, with some nice editorial sketches, all done in a quill pen dipped in ink...

Then, when we were done, we met again and looked at each other's sketchbook.

It was a fine day.

All the sketchbooks...

Simpatica Dining Hall (03-26-11)

Gary got a new job after an anxious period of unemployment, so we really had to celebrate the event.

We went to Simpatica Dining Hall, for a menu that featured barbecued meats. But, ah... Let me tell you, we had a regal time! I can get lyrical about food, but the deviled egg with smoked tuna topped with crispy shallots were a perfection, with this slight smokey flavor mixing with the whites of the eggs...

The concept centers around an-ever changing weekly menu, and seating is by reservation only. The setting is a narrow room in the basement of an old building in SE Portland. The food, consisting of a three-course dinner, is served at common tables, so people can talk with each other. It's a fun place, alternating between noisy animated conversations and reverential awe whenever a new course is brought out.

Some of our table companions

From the corner where I was sitting at the back corner of the room, I had a great view of everything, and enjoyed engaging in small talk with Gary, meeting new people, and leisurely drawing in my sketchbook.

We may try to go back for our anniversary, to celebrate our 30 years together...

80s Video Dance Party at the Crystal Ballroom (03-26-11)

Party on! This time, my friend Sian A. and I went to a late dance party at the Crystal Ballroom, consisting of old music videos from the 80s (they apparently do these dances every week).

I had lots of fun! But it was a challenge to watch the screen, dance on the famous bouncing wooden floor, and draw in my sketchbook, all at the same time.

I was wearing a black skirt and a ruffled green and black blouse and my (mostly) comfortable black high heel mary janes. I was felling pretty cool, and not the worse looking of the aging baby boomers present. But after a while, I had to take my shoes off because I couldn't feel my toes anymore... Yikes! They were totally numb!

So I danced in my stockings, holding the shoes and the sketchbook in one hand, drawing with the other hand... The crowd was super-enthusiastic, shouting away the words of the songs and jumping at the beat in unison. I could feel myself bounce up in the air without any effort, on a floor set on springs that was increasingly getting wet from the dorks who were nonchalantly holding their drink in hand. When some idiot finally spilled his cup on my feet, I decided to put the shoes back on, pain or no pain.

A challenge: to sketch while dancing!

Sian danced the whole night away; she was obviously having a good time, and she knew all the songs. It's funny how Michael Jackson has become popular again; every song of his that was played was met with an unreserved roar of approval from all, especially Thriller. Dying, even in a stupid manner, is obviously a great marketing tool.

At some point, I took a break to look at my sketch close to a light. Not bad. I added some shadows here and there and the colors of the lights later on, but it is pretty much the way it was.

Sian dancing on the right

I did this sketch while standing under one of the two large Murano glass chandeliers that hand over the ballroom.

A different view of the same thing...

While I was sitting down, some guy came to ask me to dance; I politely refused and thanked him. I had to suppress a laugh when he reappeared twice afterward, talking away like I knew him. When I pointed at my ears, to show I couldn't understand anything, he looked irritated with me and left (good riddance).

The blog author and her friend

We left after the last song was played (at 1:30 a.m.). To get the beer or whatever that was off my feet, I took a shower as soon as I got home and finally went to be at 3:00 a.m., exhausted but exhilarated because this was a lot of fun.

Movie: The Big Lebowski (03-20-11)

A quick sketch done while watching The Big Lebowski, a hilarious movie, which, I must admit, I hated the first time I saw it (just like Animal House).

The Dude Abides!

Anyway, what can I say? I am not going to go into an analysis explaining why and make apologies for now liking this buddy movie about bowling losers.